


Prospectum

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Marauders' Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-19
Updated: 2013-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-19 19:02:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12416094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: For it is not the story which shapes us, but rather our perspective regarding it.





	1. Like a Firefly

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

  


  


 

  


 

Chapter 1

Like a Firefly 

In the early hours of the morning, the orange light of a streetlamp flickered on and off like the tail of a firefly, its harsh orange glow temporarily illuminating the houses of Edgewood drive. A thick layer of mist hung low over the pavement, circling slowly. This was something everyone had grown used to during the past year; one Lily Evans had learned to expect it. 

Six years had passed since the fateful day an owl flew into the Evans' living room window, and nearly everyone on the street had forgotten the incident, simply because one tends to forget things when given a long while to remember them. Edgewood Drive was, in fact, a very normal street, and no one had even guessed at the possibility that a witch might be living just a few doors away. Though, down the river in Spinner's End, unusual things tended to occur more often. In fact, these things happened so frequently they could hardly be considered anything other than routine, (however strange), after a year or so. In summation, these happenings escaped the inquiry of the people of the town of Brockton, and life, so very like water trickling over the rocks of a gentle stream, continued quite pleasantly for them. Yes, Edgewood Drive was just another normal street in just another normal town. 

 It was lucky, then, that the owl delivering a copy of the Morning Prophet did so in the early hours of the morning, when no one was awake to spot it. 

Lily Evans lay half-asleep by the window, the blinking orange streetlamp not enough to rouse her into awareness. Strewn haphazardly across a wooden desk in the corner were several newspapers, none of which bore good news. They had been mailed to Lily "the muggle way" from one of her best friends, Marlene McKinnon, so as not to arouse the suspicion of Lily's neighbors. Atop the newspapers was a large birdcage containing a tawny owl, (asleep with her head under her wings), a Ministry of Magic leaflet, several letters, (some of which were in a scrawling hand, and the others in an even messier one), two quills, one half-filled bottle of ink, and a photograph of three girls smiling and laughing with a vast, shimmering lake behind them. They all waved innocently at the camera. The picture's cardboard frame was extremely worn around the edges, looking as though it had been fingered many times and rested in many places. 

 Tap, tap, tap. Lily woke with a start, her wide eyes scanning the room for the source of the sound. Tap, tap, tap. It was then she noticed the owl rapping its beak against the window and, baffled, she let him in. 

 Untying the newspaper with trembling fingers, Lily sat down upon her bed and quickly read the headline. The owl, after having been paid its two knuts, flew back out the open window and into the night. Its form disappeared and reappeared in the flickering orange light, growing smaller each time until the streetlamp blinked on again, and there was nothing more than a few gnats basking in the glow. 

MINISTRY WITCH CAPTURED AND KILLED 

 Tonight, the body of Ms. Eugenia Yeats was discovered on the banks of the Benton River by two muggle fisher-men, near Kent, after disappearing from her home yesterday afternoon. There were obvious signs of struggle in the Yeats home, and Ms. Yeats's daughters, seventeen and nineteen, reported coming home from downtown London and seeing a dark figure flee the area. The Dark Mark was suspended over the dwelling, which was why authorities were baffled upon discovering Ms. Yeats's body was nowhere to be found. Her five children were notified of the tragedy immediately and are now currently staying with various relatives.

 It is believed Ms. Yeats was targeted by You-Know-Who's followers because of her position in the Ministry of Magic. As a highly skilled Combat Auror, Ms. Yeats had landed several Death Eaters in Azkaban just days before her kidnapping. The Minister of Magic herself agrees that this was most likely an act of revenge. 

 Ms. Yeats's death was confirmed at approximately 2:02 this morning, after several Aurors on watch in Kent spotted muggle law-enforcers by the river that evening. 

 Since this tragic incident, security measures are once again being heightened all over Britain. At the Ministry of Magic Frederick Potter, an Auror, reports that, "...in the these dark times, we can place our trust in very few people. Therefore, to maintain this trust, we must in turn trust the judgement of these people on important matters such as these." Adds Bartemius Crouch, positioned for Minister of Magic, "I feel strongly that the safety of the entire Wizarding community is at stake. And when the safety of any individual is questioned, two things must be done. One thing is to pursue the person(s) who question that safety, and the other is to make every and any attempt to restore it." 

 Lily had had enough. She laid the newspaper gently on the windowsill, and then crossed the room to the desk, where she stared for a long while at the photograph. Outside, the streetlamp blazed orange for a few moments, and then died completely. 

 

 


	2. In the Gale

 

Chapter 2

In the Gale

The house creaked in the wind, its old foundation groaning with the slightest of movements. Andromeda lay awake in her bed, mist gathering outside her window, and watched the sleeping forms of her two sisters. There was Bellatrix, who had changed so drastically during the past two years, and Narcissa, who had been content to follow her. This was how things had been for the girls' entire childhood; Bella was the leader, the role model. She came up with the crazy, attention-seeking stunts, all the best ideas were hers, and ran straight into action without giving the consequences a second thought. Andy was the thinker, always skeptical, the beach shore to Bella's crashing wave. And last was Cissy, forever happy to trail behind, mimicking those who had come before her. Sometimes, it seemed as though she never had thoughts of her own. For as long as Andromeda could remember, Narcissa's views had always been the views expected of her.

A particularly large gust of wind rocked the house, and Andromeda gave up on sleeping. She padded across the bedroom, lit her wand, and softly climbed down the stairs, careful to make as little noise as possible. Though she didn't expect it would make any difference, what with the howling winds just outside. But the Blacks were a strange family, and although Andy always wondered how anyone could sleep through a storm, everyone she knew seemed to manage it. 

When she reached the kitchen, Andromeda slid into a chair and began leafing through the newspapers scattered across the table, looking for the _Morning Prophet_. It was nearly two-thirty, so Andy supposed it would be there somewhere. At last she found it, lying neatly on top of a stack of napkins.  

The gale outside seemed to magnify. Trees were bending precariously in the wind, and rain lashed the windows with a relentless force. 

Yawning, Andy flipped through the first few pages, stopping for only a moment to glance at an article about a Ministry murder. Without having any real idea what she was looking for, she stopped on a section describing several muggle attacks near Surrey. _Surrey_...Frantically, Andy skimmed through the list of names of the people who had been killed. When she finished, she let out a sigh of relief, set the paper back down on the table, and turned to watch the storm. 

She would have to read the Prophet more often. 

The ground was now littered with splintered branches that had snapped off of trees in the wind, and stray leaves circled about in the air. The storm seemed unable to make up its mind; constantly dying then roaring with life and dying once more. With a great clap of thunder, Bella and Cissy were at last awake, and they joined Andy at the table. The house creaked and groaned as the wind gave an almighty roar, and was then swallowed once more by the thickening air of the early morning.  


	3. Water's Relief

 

 Chapter 3

 Water's Relief

 The morning sun shone through the curtains hovering over the window, blinding anyone who stepped into the kitchen. The summer had been one of record temperatures, and a suffocating heat accompanied the radiant glow which occupied the room. 

Alice Smith shuffled into the kitchen, pausing to take in the her unusually bright surroundings, and decidedly through off her bathrobe so as to rid herself of any unnecessary warmth. Sinking into a chair and rubbing her eyes tiredly, Alice came to the conclusion that despite her present fatigue, being an early riser certainly had its rewards. For an entire hour, she had the house all to herself. This was especially useful, as Alice required absolute solitude for what she was about to do. 

 Outside, birds chirped peacefully and the parched grass seemed to wilt in defeat, summoning just enough energy to flash their white flags toward the sun. For a moment, Alice sat quite still, staring out the window and drinking in the scene before her. The mug of iced coffee in her hand, the the chirping little bluebirds which she had raised herself, the sun, all of it she would miss when she returned to Hogwarts for her seventh, and final, year. Usually the idea of Hogwarts after a long summer was a pleasant one, but this year, she wasn't sure if she was ready to abandon the state of peace in which she was currently living. She wasn't sure if she was ready to sacrifice who she was, yet she knew she must. 

 With a determined breath, Alice settled a quill in her hand and began to write. Dear Professor Dumbledore, thank you for your last letter and your support, I think it wise to...

 Suddenly, a piercing screech interrupted the still quiet, reverberating off the vaulted ceiling and causing Alice to start violently and blot ink all over her letter. A black owl swooped down through an open window, nibbled Alice's ear affectionately, and proceeded to hop about in the lake of ink and track black footprints across the table. In Alice's lap now lay a copy of The Morning Prophet, which she took hesitantly. Lately, the only reason anyone in her family had continued to read the Prophet was strictly for informational purposes, to look to see if there were clues, any at all, about a weakness of Voldemort's. Perhaps it was a town he attacked too often, or not at all. Or maybe there was some way the attacks were connected, something they were all missing. It was the only lead her parents had now, and despite how she hated reading the tragedies of the day, Alice was fascinated nevertheless by the newspaper search that took place each day. She gently unfurled the paper and read the headlines. 

It seemed to grow hotter by the minute. The heat was snaking into the house, gradually stifling its inhabitants with long, burning tendrils. 

Alice mentally documented the information, skimming through articles instead of reading them, more often than not. She would review them later. Though she did pause to read an article about Frank's new job in the Ministry, he was taking the recently vacated position in the auror office. Sometimes it felt as though life was moving too quickly; it seemed like only weeks ago she and Frank were attending Hogwarts together, yet now here he was, a fully qualified auror, and she, still a schoolgirl ready to begin her final year of magical education. 

Alice laid the paper back on the table, picked up her coffee mug, and rummaged around in her robe pocket for an owl treat, willing herself to live in the present. After all, the only direction in which to live was forward. 

The sun seared the sidewalk, the shrubs, the trees, everything in its path. The TV screen in a muggle house down the street blared the incredible news: temperatures reaching up to 102 degrees. The heat crept into the corners of the brick houses on the paved roads, into the dens of animals in the country, into the minds of people who wished for nothing more than a little breeze, or perhaps a shower of relieving rain.  


End file.
